


Underneath

by guiltyhousewife



Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin: The Animated Series
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyhousewife/pseuds/guiltyhousewife
Summary: Aladdin turns the tables on Mozenarth. Again.Sequel to "Where Your Mouth Is", found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003468/chapters/52506865Taking requests!
Relationships: Aladdin/Mozenrath (Disney)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 19





	Underneath

“I won’t let you get away with it, Mozenrath!”

It would always come back to this, they both knew.

“As if you had a choice, hero!”

Mozenrath would find something he wanted, something valuable and dangerous and ultimately off-limits for the likes of him (at least in the wonder-troupe’s eyes) and they would rise up to stop him, and the battle would start all over again.

It was rote.

It was comfortable.

This time, Mozenrath had raided Jafar’s old library for a book of rare and extremely toxic poisons. Goody-goodies the likes of the princess and her defunct father shuddered to think what he would do with it, so Aladdin and the Genie were deployed once again.

Thankfully, the big blue oaf was busy with his mamlucks, so that left him to face Aladdin alone outside Agrabah’s gates as the sun set behind them and the wind picked up.

Now _this_ , this felt comfortable.

A quick blast to the boy’s stomach sent him tumbling back over the dunes, which gave Mozenrath a chance to search for the tome, dropped during their grapple. Ah! There! He bent to retrieve it, then let out a wallop of air as he was tackled back down onto the sand.

“Not so fast, Mozenrath!”

Down over and over one another they went, reaching for the tome, then the other’s bodies as the struggle became increasingly physical. Mozenrath grunted as his back hit the sand once more, Aladdin on top and his wrists in the boy’s hands. His gauntlet blazed, but was useless, pinned to the sand and aimed at the sky, not the hero’s vulnerable stomach.

He arched. He strained. He pulled. He puffed out air and tried to heave his tired body upright.

Nothing.

It irked him to no end that no matter how bright he was for his age, no matter how accomplished in magics, necromancy, and his studies, he would always be weaker than Aladdin, regardless of their height difference. The boy was a solid weight across his hips, and the grip on his wrists pinned above his head like iron. He cursed, once again, his body’s weakness and vowed to one day find a way to overcome this last, nagging shortcoming.

At the very least, Aladdin atop him panted, too, and for a moment they stayed that way, saying nothing, staring into each other’s faces until Aladdin shifted his weight to reach behind him for the fallen tome.

Mozenrath stopped breathing.

Surely…surely the gods couldn’t hate him this much. Surely the hero didn’t feel what he feared he felt.

But no.

An absolute grin cracked Aladdin’s, at first, shocked face, and he crowed,

“Why, Mozenrath, you’re hard!”

“Shut your mouth!” Mozenrath instantly and ineptly shot back in a vicious whisper. If the princess or their pet-genie heard Aladdin, he’d have to kill everyone here, including himself, just out of principle.

What could he say in his defense? That the solid weight of Aladdin across his groin, the press of that nubile ass against him, coupled with the pant of his breath, the heat of his proximity, the smell of sun, and sand and sweat that rolled off his hair and dripping brow, stirred a memory in him, a recent memory, a memory he relived panting in the dark over and over again, spending himself in his hands? A memory of a scalding mouth, tight heat, and a lascivious tongue?

He throbbed.

He ached.

Instead of jumping off him in disgust, as Mozenrath assumed he would, the hero leaned forward and whispered himself.

“I know why.”

Mozenrath gaped, the hardness of his cock exacerbated by the whip of the other’s breath so close to him, the boy’s body a sure, strong bow arched across him.

He gulped, and then wet his lips, tasting his own destruction.

“Oh yeah? Why?”

Aladdin’s smile turned patronizing, and he smiled at Mozenrath in something akin to disappointment and fondness, all at once.

“Well Mozie…you want me.”

His gauntlet blazed in indignancy, but quieted when his wrists were squeezed in gentle warning. Mozenrath calculated that if he could arch up better, inches really, he could brush his chest up against the hero’s, and perhaps feel for himself those dark, cold-pebbled nipples through the fabric, somehow, of his own shirt.

He felt compelled to retort, and managed.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, hero.”

“Oh no, Moze,” Aladdin said with a smug grin, “I’m downright positive”. He finished this last statement by rocking back and grinding his ass down on Mozenrath’s hardened cock.

Mozenrath gasped, and both cursed and blessed the little laugh Aladdin gave in return.

Reply became beyond him, his body failing him yet again, as Aladdin set a rhythm of lazily, impudently grinding the soft curve of his ass against the bulge in Mozenrath’s pants as he spoke again. Mozenrath, bewildered, thought in one hysterical moment that Aladdin’s monologue was as villainous as his ever could be.

“See, it’s pathetic really. You can’t get me out of your mind. I bet you touch yourself thinking about it, don’t you?”

He didn’t allow a reply.

“I bet you do. You touch yourself thinking about my mouth on you, swallowing you so easily down. You came undone, then, Mozie, completely. All your fancy words, all your wit, all your cunning, nothing. You moaned like an animal.”

As if in unconscious response, a moan rolled from Mozenrath’s throat as he was held down and gently ridden.

“Want to know something else?”

Yes.

Please.

Anything.

These words were choked on as he watched Aladdin shift so only one of his blasted hands held down his opponent’s wrists, and the other came to gently brush his own nipples.

“When I left to try and spy on that prospective buyer, Akhar caught me then. He wouldn’t dare of done what he did in front of you, but we were in a corner, out of your sight. He pushed me against the wall and his hand forced itself down the back of my pants, cupped my ass, and his fingers found my hole. He pressed, Moze, he tried to press inside, but couldn’t. I thought the jig was up. You know what he was expecting, right? He expected me to be loose, damp, used thoroughly by you. Do you think that he was disappointed, or intrigued that I was still a virgin?”

Those hips ground little circles on his aching cock, bounced a little. Mozenrath felt his thighs seize and he chanted over and over at himself – Don’t. You. Dare.

Aladdin smiled genuinely at him then, fully in control and backlit to look like a Greek god in gold and shadows. Mozenrath closed his eyes against the sight and tried to regain control.

He laughed, a gentle puff of air against Mozenrath's strained face.

“As if I’d let _him_ fuck me.”

The insinuation struck Mozenrath bodily and in that moment, he completely lost. His head fell back with a groan of despair and relief both and he came, came in his own pants like a boy himself.

Aladdin was off him with the barest of effort, and as Mozenrath stood shakily, the last thing he saw before Aladdin sped off on his carpet with the book in his hands – when did that blasted Carpet get here? – was his smile and a mocking salute.

“Be seeing you, Mozie.”


End file.
